The wolf's wrath
by zagamaa
Summary: To restore the peace with the Frey's, Arya agrees to be the Frey's ward and the heir's betrothed until the war is won. But when Walder Frey stabs her family in the back, Arya has to save her own skin, before saving what little family she has left.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Soo this is a new story I've been working on. I can't promise anything about how often I will post new chapters, as my summer is going to be craazy busy with work and stuff. Anyway, it's a little longer than the other chapters will be, just to get started on the story. It's also worth mentioning that I am Norwegian, so my english is not perfect, and I apologize in advance for any grammar mistake that may occur. Hope you enjoy!

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 **Chapter 1**

"Arya? Arya!"

Arya lay on her back on the grass and stared up at the cloudy sky while breathing in the fresh air of the Riverlands. She could hear that someone was looking for her, but she was in no hurry to reply. This was her place – the hill behind the trees. This was where she came when she wanted to be alone, think or just be. It was now weeks since the Bortherhood had returned her to her lady mother and king brother, and now she was, yet again, yearning for some alone time.

"ARYA!"

She realized it was her mother calling, and knew better than to ignore her for too long.

"Arya Stark!" her mother's voice slashed through the air like a whip, and Arya could hear that she was losing patience.

"Coming!" Arya shouted back. With Needle on her hip, she ran down the hill and saw her mother with her arms crossed, shaking her head by the sight of her daughter.

"What did I tell you about wandering too far from camp? Need I remind you I just got you back, and will not lose you again? Stay within the camp!"

Arya felt like a child again, which bothered her. Yes, she loved her mother dearly, but she wished she would stop talking to her as if she was nine.

"I'm sorry, mother," Arya replied. Catelyn's stern face softened and she stroke her daughter's hair affectionately.

"I have some matters to discuss with your brother. Promise you will stay within the camp so the guards can keep an eye on you."

Arya nodded obediently, rolling her eyes internally.

"And don't be late for supper!" Catelyn said and left. Arya wanted to yell after her that she was too old to be "kept an eye on". After everything she had been through, after everything she had survived on her own, she knew she could take care of herself. But perhaps that was why her mother wanted to keep her close at all times. To keep her safe, so she would not have to defend herself against enemies. So she would not get more blood on her hands.

With her mother out of sight, Arya headed to the forge. If she had to stay in the camp, then at least she wanted someone to talk to, even if her mother was not too fond of the blacksmith she brought with her from the Brotherhood. Robb on the other hand, had been more than happy to welcome a new smith.

"Arya Horseface," a knight from Winterfell greeted as she hurried past him.

"Eat shit," she replied without stopping. The guard laughed as she ran toward the edge of the camp.

She could feel the heat from the forge several feet away and stopped in the opening to accustom to it. As a northerner, she was not very fond of heat. It made her sweaty and uncomfortable.

Gendry had not noticed her yet. Arya looked at him for a second; taking him in. His bare chest was covered in sooth and sweat. His muscles flexed as he brought the hammer down on the steel, and there were a somewhat peaceful expression on his face. Arya caught herself smiling, and blushed by the realization. _Stupid girl_.

"Are you spying on me?"

She started and looked at Gendry, whom were flashing her a crooked smile. Arya stuck out her tongue and entered.

"No, stupid!"

"Here to help me then? Gods know I could use an extra pair of hands in here. The other soldiers are inadequate for this kind of work."

Arya jumped onto the counter next to him and grabbed an apple from his satchel. "Don't know how much good I would do. I've never done anything like this before."

Gendry shrugged. "It's not that hard. I could show you if you'd like."

He explained the process of turning a piece of steel into a beautiful sword or a strong piece of armour. It looked easy enough when he did it, but when he handed the hammer to Arya, she found it too heavy and could barely lift it.

"I'm too skinny," she complained and handed it back to him.

"You just need some more muscle is all," he said. Arya grimaced and continued eating the apple. She sat in silence while Gendry worked. He had stopped shaving, letting his stubbles grow into a thick beard. Arya did not know how she felt about that. It made him look older and more sincere. Not like the boy she had met back in King's Landing.

"Hey, you okay?" he suddenly asked.

Arya snapped out of her trail of thoughts and looked at him, blushing slightly. "My mother has forbidden me from practicing with the guards. She says they need to practice more than I do as they are going into battle, and I'm not. I could fight!"

Gendry did not reply. Instead, he brought out something wrapped up in a cloth from underneath the counter. Arya lit up instantly.

"A gift?" she asked and took it from him. The shape of it reminded her of the present Jon had given her before he left for the wall. She unwrapped it quickly and stared in awe at the skinny sword in front of her.

"It's beautiful!" she grinned and held it up. "It's just like Needle!" she tried a few manoeuvres and furrowed her brows together. "Although it is great-" she pretended to poke a man with it and lost her balance. "It's a bit too long for me."

Gendry snorted. "You took it from me before I could explain. It's mine. I was hoping you could teach me some of that dancing that you do." He took the sword from her and held it up as a challenge. Arya laughed and pulled Needle out of its sheath.

"You are too big for water dancing," she teased as he tried to mimic her position. However, despite his size, Arya was surprised to learn that he was quick on his feet. The sword was just the right size for him, and he was a fast learner. Arya could not remember the last time she had enjoyed herself as much as she did while teaching him water dance. It made her forget about her mother's strict rules and the guard's japing comment. It reminded her of the lessons she had had with Syrio Forel, and she found herself repeating the lines he had taught her. Gendry laughed at her, but for once, did not tease. They made a deal that they would practice daily on the top of the hill behind the trees, as it was too warm and cramped in the forge to fight.

When Arya left the forge and hurried to Robb's tent for supper, she had a big smile on her face and a warm tingle in her stomach. She could not wait until tomorrow.

When she entered Robb's tent, he was sitting by the table with their mother.

"Arya," he smiled. "Come join us."

Arya sat down next to her mother and started hungrily on the soup in front of her, slurping it loudly.

"Arya. Arya, please stop eating, we have matters to discuss," her mother pleaded and put her hand over Arya's bowl. Arya looked up with her mouth full and swallowed loudly. "What is it?" she asked.

Robb folded his hands on the table in front of him and looked at her. "It is the Freys," he told her. Arya shuddered by the name. "You know about the wedding between Edmure and one of Lord Walder's daughters. Well, after your return, he has shown interest in marrying you to the heir of the Twins, Edwyn Frey. I have to admit that was part of the original deal we made, before I… Well, you know." He could not quite meet her eyes as he said the last part.

Arya snorted back a laugh, believing they were japing. She had heard stories about the pale and long-nosed Frey heir. However, the sight of her family's earnest faces stopped her laugh short. "Wait-" she looked from her brother to her mother and shook her head. "Robb, you're not-"

"Let me finish!"

Arya crossed her arms and eyed her brother suspiciously. He had better not be considering this or she would cause him serious pain! She had thought that after being lost for several years, her mother would think twice before marrying her off to some stupid lord.

"We need his men, and we need free passage across the trident. I thought Edmure was enough to regain Lord Walder's trust and loyalty, but he changed his mind. He wants a wife for his heir."

Arya chewed on her lip, the anger boiling up inside her. It was not fair to force _her_ to mend _his_ mistakes.

"However, I told him no one were marrying my little sister before the war is won and Sansa is safe from the Lannister's claws. This gives us time to return to the Twins and get you back- before you have to marry anyone."

Confused, she looked from her mother to her brother for some more explanation.

"It is only a temporary betrothal," Catelyn offered. Arya nodded thoughtfully, considering the plan.

"So we lie?"

Robb nodded. "It is time for us to play dirty. Time is running out and I do not know how long I trust the Lannisters with Sansa. Eventually they will do something to her in order to make me bend the knee. We no longer have the kingslayer to bargain with…" Arya noticed that his eyes flickered toward their mother, but only for a second. Obviously, he had not forgotten her betrayal.

Arya chewed her lip so hard, it burst and bled. She would not be fighting in the war – her mother had made that perfectly clear, despite Arya's constant pleading. This way, however, she could still be an important piece in the North's victory. She could help get Sansa back. She could help defeat the Lannisters. It _was_ better than doing nothing!

"Will I be a ward of some sort?" she asked grimly.

"Temporarily, yes," Robb replied.

"How long will I have to play along?"

Robb shrugged. "Hopefully only a couple of months. Mother will be with you at the Twins. Edmure as well – his wedding will be in five days. We will all attend, and then you and mother will stay behind while I take my host south."

Arya was silent for a long moment, considering it thoroughly. She had been many different people throughout the years; Arry, Weasel, Nan… Surely she could play Arya the betrothed as well.

"I'll do it!" she said determinately. "Anything to save Sansa. And if that bloody git even as much as looks at me wrong, he will have to answer to Needle!"

Catelyn gasped, but Robb laughed. "Which is why I don't have to worry about you, little sister. You know how to take care of yourself. Thank you. And I promise we will get you away from the Frey's as soon as we can. I will have some of my best men remain in the Riverlands as a precaution, as many as I can spare. If something is wrong, you need only send a raven and they will come to your rescue."

Catelyn squeezed her hand and smiled. "I am very proud of you, Arya. This is the right thing to do, I am glad you understand."

However, as she left the tent, the happiness she had felt only an hour earlier had vanished completely.

Next day, she met up with Gendry on the top of the hill as they had planned. Due to the recent news, she had trouble concentrating and was frequently knocked down by one of his gentle blows.

"Something on your mind?" he asked as he helped her up for the tenth time. Arya chewed her lip. She had avoided telling Gendry because she knew him only too well. He would be furious and do something stupid like he always did. Then again, he was her best friend, and she was aching to tell someone. After being knocked down again and again, she finally gathered the courage and burst out: "They are sending me to the Twins in a few days."

Gendry looked at her. "I know. For your uncle's wedding."

Arya shook her head and felt her throat tighten. "I'm not coming back in a while. From this day, I am officially betrothed to Edwyn Frey, heir of the Twins." She watched warily as Gendry absorbed the information. The transformation in his face was just as she expected. She tried to explain the plan, but Gendry was already off.

"NO! Arya, they can't do this! Are you serious? They just got you back! If I had known, I would never have let you return! Arya, you cannot do it! I won't let you, I-" he balled his hands into fists and punched the nearest tree as hard as he could.

"Gendry!" Arya gasped and hurried to restrain him. His knuckles were bruised and bloody. "Calm down, you didn't let me finish!" she shoved him away from the tree and kept his hands in hers to keep him from punching something else. "It is only pretend. Robb needs Frey's men and in return I have to marry Edwyn. But the wedding will not find place before the war is won, and by then Robb will have returned for me and taken me home to Winterfell. That piece of shit won't have the time to wed and bed me."

Gendry shook his head, his nostrils flaring angrily. "And what if we lose? Then what? What will be of you then?"

Arya snorted. All this time, she had never even considered the possibility of Robb losing before. He had seemed so confident when he talked about bringing down the Lannisters; she had put her faith in him without a doubt.

"Arya, you do realize war is ugly, no matter how many men Robb has got by his side. There is always a possibility-"

"Don't you dare," she spat. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

Gendry sighed, exasperated. "He could die, Arya. I could die. Then what – will you marry that Frey prick? Spend your rest of your days in his captive, being his wife, having his children?"

Arya shook her head, her eyes stinging. "That won't happen. Robb will win, and he will bring Sansa back and then we all go home to Winterfell."

"Don't be a child, Arya. You have to be realistic. You need to have a way out in case something happens!"

"Robb would never agree to the betrothal if he was not sure that he would win. He would never put me in that position!"

"Sounds to me like he already did." His words felt like a punch in her stomach.

"You are such a stupid bull!" She yelled and pushed him to the ground before stomping away. Gendry tried to seize her, but she was too quick.

"Arya-" he called after her.

"Leave me alone!"

"We should have stayed with the brotherhood," he said, more to himself than her, but Arya heard him, and froze for a second, her stomach lurching. She refused to turn and look at him. If she did, she was sure she would break down and cry and back out of the whole plan. Instead, she cursed loudly at him and ran as fast as she could toward the camp. He was not going to ruin this for her. She was with her family, and she was helping retreat Sansa. All she had to do was act like a proper little lady until the war was won. She would have to play the game of thrones for only a few months, and then they would all return to Winterfell as a family. Although it scared her, she had been proud to be a part of Robb's plan. She had felt like she mattered, that she would make a difference. Now, it was all ruined.

As the day of her departure drew nearer, Arya decided it was time to forgive Gendry. The more she had thought about what he had said, the more she had realized he was right. If Robb did not plan an escape for her in case something went wrong, she would plan one for herself. If Robb were killed in the war, there was a slim chance that the Freys would let his guards enter the castle, especially to take her away. If Robb lost the war, it would be up to her to get herself and her mother out of Lord Frey's custody. As soon as they arrived at the Twins, she would explore the entire castle and find a way out as a precaution. But first, she wanted to make amends with Gendry before she left. He was her best friend and she could not bear the idea of him going into war without knowing how worried she would be about him.

She raided the kitchen for something to drink and hid it in her satchel before hurrying to the forge. Gendry smiled slightly when he saw her and pushed the armour he was mending away.

"I did not think I would see you again before you left," he said and crossed his arms. Arya bit her lip and stepped inside.

"I hate to admit it, but you were right." The words tasted strange on her tongue. Gendry whistled and looked at her in disbelief.

"Arya Stark, are you apologizing?"

Frowning, she shot him a dark look and snapped:" You don't have to gloat, stupid!"

He laughed loudly and Arya punched him in the arm as hard as she could.

"Some lady," he teased sardonically. "If you ever hit your betrothed like that he would probably chain you down."

Arya grimaced. "I'd like to see him try!" she looked at him, suddenly feeling sullen. "Are you going to accompany us to the wedding?"

Gendry shook his head. "No, I have too much armour to mend. Besides, seeing you with that son of a whore would be torture." He forced a smile and messed up her hair like Jon had used to do.

"You are stupid," Arya scoffed. However, the way he looked at her made her stomach twist. She was suddenly very aware of how dirty her breaches were. "Do you have time for one last lesson?" she asked and brought Needle out of her sheath.

"Of course I do, m'lady."

When they reached the hill, Arya could tell that Gendry had been practicing by himself. He was a fast learner, and almost managed to disarm her a couple of times. Arya was quicker, though, and ducked away from his blows, laughing at his frustrated expression. For a moment, she almost forgot about her journey in the morrow. She no longer thought of her mother's fretting and Robb's constant assurance that everything would be okay in the end. It was only the two of them; Arya and Gendry, fighting, sweating, and laughing. But when they collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, Arya was pulled back to reality.

"I wish you were coming with," she told him. "I feel like I am the one going into war." She sighed and stretched out in the grass, looking up at the evening sky.

"I guess you are. In some way. Not into a bloodbath like I am, of course." He tried to ease the tension, but his face gave him away. He was worried. Arya sat up abruptly, gaping at him.

"Don't say it like that! I worry about you enough as it is."

This made him smirk. "You worry about me, eh?"

Arya nodded, blushing slightly. "Of course I do, stupid. I worry about all of you."

"Right," he snorted and took a sip of the ale she had brought. Then another. Arya took the flask from him and drank hungrily.

"Are you scared?" she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Gendry shrugged. "I haven't really given it much thought." Arya rolled her eyes and punched him. The stupid bull was too thick to be scared. "After everything we've been through, fighting in a battle doesn't seem like much," he admitted with a forced smile.

"I know," Arya agreed. "You remember when the Lannisters captured us and brought us to Harrenhal? I remember I was so scared the Tickler would interrogate either one of us. I even worried about Hot Pie. I was so scared I remember thinking that if we survived that, if I were reunited with my family, I would do whatever it took to make them proud. That is why I am doing this."

He looked at her with those ocean blue eyes and she could not help but blush. "Arya Stark, you are the bravest person I know."

She did not know whether it was the ale, or the dread of what tomorrow might bring, but Arya suddenly had a need to be as close to him as possible. She wanted to breathe in the familiar scent of sweat and coal that had kept her company for the last couple of years. She wanted to feel his strong arms around her, and hear him say that everything was going to be okay. Gendry had been her rock during the toughest years of her life, and he had never faltered. Somewhere along those years, he had become a part of her, a part she was afraid to lose.

"Don't go south," she whispered and curled up against him on the ground. "You are not a knight. A master of arms has never trained you. If you go south, you will die. Please, Gendry, stay here. Stay in the Riverlands."

"Arya…" he pulled her closer and put his arm around her. "I have sworn to fight beside your brother. I might only be a bastard, but I am a man of my word, and I will not betray your brother's trust. They need a smith. I can't stay."

She closed her eyes and buried her face in his tunic. Sometimes, while on the run, she would snuggle up beside him in the night. It had made her feel safe. Yet, something had changed between them since then. Something in the way he looked at her. In the way her stomach fluttered by the sight of him.

"Arya," he whispered and she could feel his warm breath in her hair.

"Shh, don't talk. I want this moment to last a little longer."

They lay in silence and watched as the darkness crept upon them. Neither cared. This could be their last moment together and Arya did not want it to end. She was losing her pack, just when she thought it was as complete as it would ever be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She got little sleep before Catelyn entered her tent with a gown in her arms. Arya stumbled sleepily to her feet, trying to recall the dream she had had. Then she realized it had not been a dream at all. She let her fingers run over her burning lips. She could still remember the taste of ale on his tongue. Blushing, she let her mother pull the dress over her head while praying to whatever god listening that her mother could not tell that Arya had been out all night. Surely, she would not approve and give her a reprimand on how ladies were supposed to behave.

As Catelyn untangled her hair, Arya let her mind drift off – back to last night. She had never kissed a boy before, and had never – not even after listening to all of Sansa's fantasies- imagined it would feel like this. Her stomach fluttered by the memory of his hands in her hair, stroking her neck, cupping her chin…

"Don't you die on me, Gendry Waters," she had told him breathlessly before kissing him, almost desperately. Her heart had pounded in her chest and she remembered how alive she had felt. How the two of them had been the only people left in the world, and how her worries had completely vanished. A moaned had escaped her as he moved his lips down her neck and nibbled softly. Her fingers had trailed the features of his face, of his chest and shoulders before she had tangled them into his hair, pulling him closer. She had never imagined it would feel like it had; like a thirst that could not be quenched. Despite the passion of the moment, he had refused to go any further, still too wrapped up in her honor.

"One day we will see each other again, m'lady," he had promised and kissed the back of her hand. For once she had not minded the nickname.

"Arya, honestly, are you even listening to me?"

Arya realized she was smiling sheepishly into the looking glass, completely lost in thought. Her mother was scolding her impatiently.

"What?" Arya turned toward her. Catelyn cupped her chin and looked down at her, smiling and kissing her forehead.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart."

Arya looked at herself. She was wearing a green, woollen gown with a laced bodice. Her hair was set up in a familiar, yet strange-feeling hairdo. One she had often worn as a little girl back at Winterfell. As she looked at herself, she thought she actually looked like a proper little lady, and the sight was disturbing.

"It is one of Jeyne's old dresses. It is a little too large for you, but the seven knows how difficult it is to find something fitting your skinny frame."

Arya snorted. "Too large? I can hardly breathe!" she tried to pull the fabric from her stomach, but her mother gestured for her to stop.

"Stop complaining. You look wonderful. The Frey's won't know what hit them!"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Do I have to wear a dress every day? If so, I will be bloody miserable!"

"It is only for a little while, my dear. I have re-packed your clothes. Were you honestly planning on bringing all those weapons? We are the Freys' guests; we have to show that we trust them. Weapons do not equal trust." Catelyn put the comb into Arya's chest and turned to her daughter. "I will see that our carriage is ready. We will be leaving in a little while. Please don't ruin the dress."

When left alone, Arya hurried to the chest and repacked Needle and several daggers. They might be the Freys' guests, but Arya did not trust them in the least. Before leaving, she slipped one dagger into her boot and looked around the tent one last time. Although she had only been her a few weeks, the camp had been the closest thing to a home she had had since they left Winterfell all those years ago. It would be sad to leave.

"Arya," her mother called from outside, and Arya took a deep breath. This was it.

She was forced to travel in a carriage with her mother instead of on horseback, which made her furious.

"Now, I hope you remember everything Septa Mordane tried to teach you. We will want to be on Lord Frey's good side so he won't call back his men. No swearing, no slurping, no fighting, no yelling, no glaring-"

"I get it, no fun!" Arya grimaced and looked out the window. Although they had already said their goodbyes, she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Gendry.

"How is the dress suiting you, little sister?" Robb asked through the door.

Arya groaned and tugged at her dress. "I feel like my tits are falling out!" she had never been allowed to wear gowns with low cuts before, nor had she ever wanted to. However, here she was; her bodice so tight it pushed up what little of chest she had and made her feel much too exposed.

"Language!" Catelyn snapped sharply.

"You look wonderful," Robb smiled. "Are you ready?"

Arya turned and looked for Gendry. When there was no sight of him, she sighed and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be." But as the wagon started to move, she spotted a mane of black hair in the back of the crowd. Gendry's face was stern and bitter as he watched her disappear behind the trees. Arya felt an ache in her chest, and wished he were coming with them. She leaned out the window and waved, desperately trying to catch his eyes. Then he was gone. Gone behind the trees and the hill.

It was only a day's journey to the Twins. Arya spent the time imagining what she would say to Gendry the next time she saw him. _If_ she would ever see him again. The thought of losing him made her eyes sting and she forced the idea out of her mind. This was not the time for weakness. She had to brace herself for what was coming. She had to be strong and brave like her brother. _This is for Sansa_ , she kept telling herself. Yet, her mind kept wandering back to Gendry. She wanted to feel his arms around her again.

"Don't get stabbed," she had told him before she left. What a stupid thing to say! Gendry was riding into battle, and the last thing she had said to him was "don't get stabbed." As if that was not a given! Arya cursed herself for her thick wit and did not even notice that they were entering the gates of the Twins.

"Remember to smile," Catelyn said. Arya looked at her, confused. Then she heard the chiming of bells and the ferocious river beneath them. She caught a glimpse of the blue towers on a silver-grey field that was their banner. They were here. Her heart beat faster. _Fear cuts deeper than swords_ , she reminded herself. _I am a Stark of Winterfell. There is wolf blood running through my veins_. The chiming grew louder. _For Sansa. For Robb. For father_.

"It is only temporary," Catelyn reminded her softly, squeezing her hand. Arya chewed her lip. In a few moments, she would be Lord Frey's ward and the thought was terrifying.

The carriage stopped and Robb opened the door for them to exit. He took her hand and steadied her as she balanced down the stairs in her uncomfortable shoes. There were a small group of people waiting for them on the steps to a great wooden door.

"King Robb," a man greeted and came forward to shake Robb's hand.

"Lord Edwyn," Robb replied and nodded stiffly. "This is my mother, Lady Stark, and this-" he put his arm around Arya's shoulder and guided her closer. "Is my sister Arya."

"My lady," Edwyn took her hand and kissed it with dry lips. Arya forced a smile as she studied the man in front of her. He was tall and slender, with long, dark hair. His skin was so pale he looked more a corpse than a living man.

Edwyn returned his attention back to Robb and said "Lord Walder is awaiting you in the great hall. I will personally escort the ladies to their quarters. I am sure they are longing for some rest after the journey."

Her lady mother was a talent at making unnecessary small talk, and for once, Arya was grateful for it. They were guided up several staircases to a chamber that overlooked the courtyard. Due to all the wedding guests, Arya and Catelyn would share room until after Edmure's wedding. Arya did not mind. The way Edwyn looked at her gave her the creeps, and she would rather sleep in the comfort of her mother's presence than alone and worrying about an unwanted visit.

"I will send a handmaiden up to you shortly," Edwyn bowed his head and left the room. Catelyn looked around and smiled.

"Well, this is not half-bad. Are you tired sweetheart? You might have time for a soothing bath before supper."

Arya shook her head and collapsed – stomach-down- on the bed. "I just want to sleep!"

Catelyn sat down next to her and patted her back. "You were a little short with Lord Edwyn. He is supposed to be your betrothed, you will have to make conversations with him eventually."

Arya groaned. "He is evil. I could see it in his eyes."

"Arya!"

She sat up and looked at her mother. "Save it, mother. You've heard the rumours about him and his brother. I am here, I am wearing a gown, but I cannot pretend to swoon for this man."

Catelyn sighed and reached for her daughter's hand. "No one is expecting you to swoon. However, I know you to be a better liar than this. Put your skill to use."

The Great Hall of the Twins was not very large, and very dimly lit. It had a cold feel to it, and as they entered, Arya felt a chill down her spine. Lord Walder sat upon his black oaken chair and looked upon his guests with wary eyes. Despite Robb's apologetic words, he still did not seem to trust them. To Arya's dismay, she was seated at Edwyn's side. He grimaced at her. Arya supposed it was meant to be a smile and tried to return it as best as she could. Catelyn gave her a look that told her it had not been very convincing.

"I hope the chamber was to your liking," Edwyn said. Arya cleared her throat and nodded. _What would sansa say_? She asked herself and tried to remember how polite and courteous her sister had been.

"Very much so, my lord." The words that came out of her mouth did not sound like her at all. _Perfect_. Catelyn looked pleased.

"Are you looking forward to the wedding?"

Arya looked at him. He did not seem like the talkative type, yet here he was, making pointless conversation.

"Yes I do. My mother got me a new gown especially for the ceremony. I cannot wait to wear it." Robb snorted, but were quick to cover it with a cough. Arya shot him a dark glance. The lying was actually not that hard. She would simply pretend to be Sansa – like she had done when they were kids and Arya was making fun of her. Perhaps this betrothal would be easier than she had expected.

"I am looking forward to seeing you in it," Edwyn said courtly, but his face was completely blank of emotions.

When the meal begun, a wide-shouldered man with black beard joined them. Although they did not really look the same, Arya could see that he was Edwyn's brother. She had heard rumours about "Black" Walder Frey. He was just as vicious as his brother, if not more. Edwyn might be acting polite as of now, but Arya would not be fooled.

"Is this your new wife?" Black asked and looked at Arya with a taunting smirk. "Looks nothing like your last one."

Arya looked to her mother. She had not been aware of Edwyn's previous marriage.

"Better keep a closer eye on this one, eh?" Black Walder laughed and drank an entire goblet of ale in one gulp.

Edwyn growled. "Enough, Black."

But Black Walder continued laughing. "She's pretty. A tiny little thing. Just how I like them…" the look he gave her made Arya nervous, and she glared angrily back at him.

Robb had had enough. "Lord Walder, with all due respect-"

Black Walder let his eyes wander over Arya's body before turning to Robb. "My apologies, your grace, I did not mean to offend your lovely sister." His words were as empty as his seemingly black eyes. "It was meant as a compliment, truly."

However, Robb did not look convinced. Arya wondered if he was starting to regret his decision to leave her and Catelyn alone with these people.

Arya suddenly noticed her uncle at the end of the table. He was searching the room in silence. She guessed he was curious as to whom he would be marrying the very next day. A pinch of sympathy rushed through her. As opposed to her, he would actually have to go through with the marriage. She did not know her uncle very well, but from what her mother had told her, he would make a good husband. Arya looked at Lord Walder's daughters. They were not very pretty either of them and Arya felt even more sorry for him.

"Oh, the singers are here," Black Walder grinned. "Brother, what song should we have them sing? Perhaps 'my lady wife' or 'six sorrows'?"

Edwyn shrugged. "I don't care."

"Personally, I have always been a fan of 'The rains of Castamere'. I don't know why, but there is something about the melody that moves me. What do you think, my lady?"

Arya realized he was looking at her and she sputtered, completely taken aback. "I… I find 'The rains of Castamere' a little… unfit for such a pleasant feast. They should play something a little merrier."

Black Walder snickered under his breath. Arya hated keeping her opinions to herself. Truth be told, she hated that stupid Lannister song. She wanted to punch Black Walder for bringing up the Lannisters at supper. It was only to get a reaction from them. It was well known that the Lannisters were keeping Sansa captive in the capitol. They were the ones starting the war, damn it. No, scratch everything she thought about lying being easy. It felt like her chest was going to explode from balled up yelling. _Sansa would not yell at a feast, she reminded herself. Nor would she ever yell in front of her betrothed. Save it for later_. Luckily, she had brought Needle. When the feast ended, she would practice until she no longer had the need to punch someone.

Edwyn did not make any more conversations. Nor did Black Walder. However, she frequently caught him staring at her chest. As did Robb, who were glaring angrily at the man. Her brother was positively furious at the end of the feast, and when spoken to, he replied with as few words as possible. Edmure had gulped down goblet after goblet of ale, and was now snoring loudly.

"Robb," Catelyn gestured toward her brother.

Robb nodded and made to leave. "Thank you for your pleasant company, my lords. I should get my uncle to bed – we don't want the groom to be drunk at his own wedding, do we?" Arya watched as Robb put an arm around Edmure's shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. Suddenly, she wished she had been the one to pass out on ale- anything to get away from this dreadful feast.

"I think it is time for my daughter and I to retire too," Catelyn smiled and put her hand on Arya's shoulder. "Thank you for a lovely evening, my lords." She curtsied and together they left. Arya had never loved her mother more.

She sat in the windowsill and stared out into the dark night. Her mother was sound asleep in her bed. It was a starry night, and Arya wished she were back on her hill behind the trees with Gendry. Was he thinking about her? Missing her like she missed him? Arya frowned and curled her legs up under her. _Stupid little girl_. All this acting like a proper little lady, actually made her think like one. _What did she care if he thought about her or not?_

She was about to get back to bed when she noticed two figures down on the grounds. One of them was unmistakably Black Walder. The other one she could not make out, but there were something familiar about his posture. Arya wished she could hear what they were talking about. There was this feeling that she could not shake off. A feeling of that something was terribly wrong. She had tried to talk to her mother about it, but Catelyn had told her she was imagining things. However, Arya had seen the way Lord Walder had looked upon his guests, and there had been nothing but hostility in his eyes. Her gut was telling her that winter was coming.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Yesyes, it's been a while, and I am sorry. I've been at work nearly everyday for the past 5 weeks and haven't had any energy left to post a new chapter, let alone write... But here it is. I know a lot of you are going to be disappointed by how it turns out, but I decided to keep it as canon as I could.**

* * *

Chapter 3

Arya was shoved into baths and dresses for the entire next morning. One would think it was _her_ wedding for all the suffering they put her through. The bath was too hot, and her skin sore from the handmaidens' scrubbing. One of them was so clumsy she got soap in Arya's eyes when washing her hair. "Watch it!" Arya barked.

"Oh, Arya, stop tugging the dress!" her mother sighed as the maids clothed her.

But Arya hated the red gown they had put her in. Her mother had had it altered, making it even tighter than the one she wore the day before. The sleeves were so long she could barely use her hands. One of the maids laced her bodice until Arya let out an angry yell. "Not so tight you dumb-wit!"

"Arya!"

"I cannot breathe. Loosen it, will you?" she barked at the maid, ignoring her mother. "Honestly, it is Edmure's wedding, not mine. No one will care what I wear, I-"

"Arya, stop making a fuss!" her mother was angry now. "You will wear this gown and that will be the end of it."

Arya fumed but did not reply. Stupid dresses. Her mother braided back her hair. Since she had cut it, it had grown to just below her chin. The length was impossible to work with, but her mother made it look easy.

"There. Now pretend not to be miserable." Catelyn squeezed her shoulder and gave her a knowing look in the looking glass. _Yes, yes, it is for the greater good. She would pull herself together_. However, when the handmaidens left to bring them some food and Catelyn turned her back to her, Arya pulled out a dagger from her chest and hid it in her boot. _Never not be prepared_ , she told herself and thought about all those times she wished she had brought a weapon with her. She would not make the same mistake again.

"Arya, what are you doing?" Catelyn was looking sternly at her. "Is that a-" her gaze moved to her hands by her boot.

Arya stood up quickly and made herself busy refolding her night shift on the bed.

"Look at me, child!" Catelyn snapped and spun her around. "You will not bring a weapon to the wedding. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear on that matter!"

Arya glared at her. "Mother, do you honestly expect me- after everything I have been through- to trust anyone simply because you tell me to? I have been beaten, imprisoned, enslaved – I will not walk around unarmed!" her mother gasped by her words and slumped to the bed. She had been harsh yes, but there were nothing in her words her mother did not already know. "Winter is coming." Arya finished. As she left the chamber, Catelyn was sobbing violently into her palms.

The castle was whirling with servants preparing the wedding. Arya wanted to see Robb before the ceremony started. The gods knew she would have little time talking to him during the feast, and he would be gone in the morrow. She had to tell him about her inkling. Her father had not believed her when she had tried to tell him back in King's Landing, but perhaps her brother would listen.

"My fair lady," a voice drawled behind her when she entered the Great Hall. Arya turned to find Black Walder smirking at her. "What can I do you for?"

Arya took a deep breath and held her head high. "I am looking for my brother. Have you seen him?"

Black Walder took a few steps closer. "We broke the feast together a little while ago. I think he retired to his chamber after."

Arya nodded and turned to leave.

"Let me take you to him, my lady." Although she would rather be without the man's company, Arya forced a smile and took the arm he offered her. "I must say, you are a sight for sore eyes," Black Walder said as his eyes took her in. "It is truly a remarkable gown." Arya knew it was not the gown he was eying and felt a rush of hatred toward him. Had it not been for this charade, she would have gutted him with her dagger in a blink of an eye. Instead, Arya smiled.

"Why, thank you, Lord Walder."

"Oh, please my dear, call me Black."

Arya vomited on the inside. "Forgive me, my lord, but I hardly know you well enough to call you anything but 'my lord'."

Black Walder snickered under his breath. "Not to worry. We will be family soon. We have all the time in the world to get to know each other. In every possible way."

Arya felt the rage ball up inside her. _Don't lose your temper_ , she told herself. _Sansa would never lose her temper. She would reply with a courteous little line that would send the men swooning. You are not Arya the lost girl, anymore. You are Arya the betrothed and this is your brother-to-be_.

"I am looking forward to it," she replied in a strained voice. Thankfully, they had reached Robb's chamber and Arya thanked the man for his company.

Robb smiled when he opened the door and saw her. "Little sister," he greeted. "Come in." he glanced through the door before closing it. "Was that Black escorting you?"

Arya groaned. "Yes. I ran into him in the Great Hall. He insisted."

Robb frowned. "I do not like the way he is looking at you. Thankfully he is coming south with us. He won't bother you after tonight."

Arya was not comforted. "Robb, I need to tell you something." She sat down on the bed with a wary expression. "Something is not right..."

"Arya-"

"No, let me finish!" she snapped. "I have had this feeling before – In King's Landing, only days before they imprisoned father. He would not listen to me. Of course, I don't blame him. I was only a child! Well, I am hardly a child anymore, Robb, and this time, I am begging you to listen."

Robb sighed and rubbed his temple. "Arya, I cannot base my war strategies on your _inklings_."

"They are not inklings," Arya barked. "I knew something was wrong before the Lannisters murdered fathered. I know something is wrong now!"

"Are you regretting saying yes to the betrothal?"

Arya wanted to punch him in that moment. "Jon would have believed me!" she roared, her eyes stinging. "He would have taken my word on it."

She saw how the words hurt him. She knew that despite Jon being a bastard, Robb had always loved him like a real brother. Even envied him in some way. Perhaps because he looked more like father than he did. Arya did not know, but the words had been effective.

"Arya…"

"We should leave. You can win without Lord Frey's men. Lets find Edmure and mother and leave at once."

"We cannot break a promise to the Frey's twice; they'll go to war against us themselves."

"To hell with the Frey's. Convince the Brotherhood to fight by you instead. Their men are twice the fighters compared to these little shits."

Robb sank down on a chair and shook his head. "It is too late, Arya. We have to go through with the wedding. Perhaps after we can get away, but if we leave now- they will kill us all."

"Please, Robb, I am begging you."

Robb took her hand and squeezed it. "Don't worry, little sister. I will think of something. Now, try to enjoy the wedding."

"But-"

"Arya. Go."

Arya swore and stormed out the door. She desperately missed Jon.

The wedding was a dull affair. First Lord Walder talked about honour and introduced his daughters. Edmure watched them all warily, his eyes revealing his disappointment with every one of them. _This is Robb's fault_ , Arya thought. If Robb had not abandoned his promises, Edmure would not have to marry any of these dumb-witted girls. He would have married a pretty woman, one who could sing and sow and dance. One every man would envy him. Instead, he was going to marry one of these. He looked nervous where he stood, awaiting his wife.

"And this," Lord Walder finally said. "Is my daughter, Roslin."

A petite young girl entered the Great Hall. She was dressed in silks and cloaked with Frey colours. Edmure looked pleased. Arya could not help but smile at him. As she turned to her mother, her stomach dropped and she turned to see if her eyes had deceived her, but no. In the back of the crowd was Roose Bolton. She suddenly realized that had been the man she had seen the night before.

"What is that Bolton shit doing her?" Arya quietly asked her mother. She was suddenly worried he would recognize her from Harrenhaal, but then again, she had been a filthy commoner at the time. Now she was dressed like a lady.

"Silence," Catelyn hissed back, her eyes fixated on the couple in front of her. Arya rolled her eyes and ignored her twisting stomach. It did not have to mean anything. He could simply be a family friend. The thought did not comfort her. She suddenly felt Black's eyes upon her, and felt the hair in her neck rise. Instead of looking at him, she focused on her uncle and his bride; doing the best she could to ignore Black's lingering eyes.

She was relieved when the feast finally begun and she could drink ale until she passed out. At least, that was what she would have done had her mother not stopped her after her third cup.

"Behave," she muttered under her breath. Arya chewed on her lip and looked at her hands. She felt misplaced and alone. Her mother was talking to Brynden Tully, and Edwyn was a man of few words. Not that she minded. He had not said a word to her all evening, and she jumped when he suddenly turned and looked at her.

"You do look lovely this evening, my lady," he said. Arya cleared her throat while thinking of something to say.

"Thank you," was all she came up with.

"Would you care to accompany me for a little stroll?"

Arya hesitated. Honestly, there was nothing she wanted less. Catelyn had heard him and nodded insistently at her daughter.

"It would be my pleasure," Arya heard herself say in a voice that did not belong to her, but to her sister. She was suddenly very grateful for the dagger in her boot. Edwyn placed a hand on her hip and led her out of the Great Hall and toward the stairs. Arya attempted to turn around, but his grip tightened and dug into her skin, making her gasp in agony.

"You need not worry, my lady, I only want to show you something."

Arya wondered what he could possibly want to show her upstairs, but did not ask. She heard the crowd downstairs cheer, and realized it was time for the bedding.

"We don't want to miss the bedding now, do we?" she asked in her sweetest voice. Edwyn snorted.

"Trust me, you will be glad I got you out in time."

Arya narrowed her eyes. _In time for what?_ Her heart was suddenly beating very fast, and she made another attempt to turn around. Something was brewing. Her family was surrounded by Freys and they had no idea that something was about to happen. She had tried to warn Robb, but now it was too late.

"Please, my lady," Edwyn insisted and continued on with a tight grip around her elbow. Arya glared at him. Her hand was in her boot before he took another step, then the dagger was at his throat. He blinked at her, completely taken aback.

"My lady!" he gasped. Arya let the dagger cut him slightly.

"What is going on?" she demanded. "What are you shits planning?" Edwyn snickered.

"Why don't you go see for yourself if you are so curious?"

Arya hissed and sprinted down the stairs, two steps at a time. There was loud drumming coming from the Great Hall. Then she heard screaming.

"Mother!" She yelled, but someone was behind her, pulling her away from the door and forcing the dagger from her grip. Catelyn looked her way, but it was too late. A knife slit her throat, and her Lady mother fell to her knees.

"MOTHER!" she screamed until her throat hurt, and kicked and punched with all her might.

"Calm down, girl!" a man barked. She realized it was Roose Bolton and kicked even harder. "Easy, _Nan_."

"GET OFF ME! ROBB" She got her elbow free and thrust it in his face as hard as she could. Bolton staggered backwards and lost the grip on her. Arya stormed into the Great Hall, only to see dead men. Everywhere. In every corner. Men with red smiles, men without heads, men with open stomachs. Then she saw her brother: facedown on the floor. Arya cried out and ran to him, shaking him desperately while tears blurred her vision.

"Robb," she sobbed and hugged him to her. "Mother…"

"Get her," she heard someone say in the distance. Arya crawled across the floor and picked up a sword. When someone approached her, she swung it around her, daring him or her to come any closer.

"Get her, damn it!"

"You fucking shits!" Arya yelled and slashed the sword through the air. "Monsters. Heathens. Whoresons! I will kill you. I will kill all of you!" a guard approached her, but Arya was too quick and she managed to cut his leg before another one jumped in. She nicked his arm. Then someone stabbed her in the side. A blinding agony rushed through her.

"You will burn in the seven hells for this," she rasped before collapsing on the floor, blacking out from the pain.

Arya was half-awake when she felt an agonizing sting in her side. It felt like a thousand knives were piercing her at once. When the pain forced her into reality, Arya realized someone were in the room with her, dabbing at the wound with a moist cloth.

"Getorfme!" She barked and tried to push the cloth away with her hand, but her arm was tied down. Confused, she looked around the room. It was the same chamber she had stayed in the night before, only now it had been completely emptied of furniture. All but the bed she was laying in. An old woman was next to her, holding a cloth between her hands and clutching it to her chest. She seemed scared. Arya glared at her, swore at her under her breath. She would not let any Frey shits touch her. The gods knew what they had done to her while she was unconscious.

"Get out!" Arya growled and snapped her teeth after her like Nymeria would do. "Get the fuck out!"

The woman jumped to her feet and ran out the door. Arya heard a key turn and she sighed. They were holding her imprisoned in the same room she had shared with her mother. She looked down at herself and realized she was only wearing her smallclothes. Who had undressed her? Tears stung her eyes, but Arya refused to cry. They would not get the satisfaction to see her weak. She was a wolf of the north and winter was here. This was not the time to be weak.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I'm really sorry for the loooong delay. I've had a major writer's block, but now I'm back in the game! Most of the story is done so I expect to be posting once a week or so. It has taken a different turn than I expected but I hope you like it all the same!

She did not know how many days had passed. The pain in her side sent her in and out of a restless sleep, and it was getting harder to tell reality and dreams apart. She heard wolves howling, saw men fighting, red smiles and a woman screaming, another talking, soothing her. She felt her mother's hand patting her hair while feeding her soup. Then she was at Harrenhaal, talking to Gendry and Hot Pie. The other day someone had come to see her, but in place of a face was a gaping black hole. She was lying on green grass with a black-haired man. Gendry, she knew, and they were both smiling and laughing and kissing. Suddenly, he started screaming, and blood poured out of a gaping smile on his neck. A moist cloth was pressed against her forehead by a man who changed faces. Someone was shaking her, but Arya was too tired to open her eyes. _Let me sleep a little longer, father_ , she wanted to tell him, but could not find her voice. The shaking continued, and she realized only Sansa could be this annoying.

"Sansa!" she whispered. "You're back."

"Wake up, stupid girl!"

Arya's eyes flew open by the sound of his voice. "YOU!" she growled and shook his hands off of her. "Get the fuck away from me!"

Black Walder smirked at her. "There you are."

"Go to hell!" Arya barked. "GO AWAY!"

Black leaned down closer to her, his face only inches from hers, and cupped her cheek. "Calm down, sweetheart, I have a surprise for you."

Arya pulled her head away from his touch and glared angrily at him. He was close enough for her to bite him. She would have had not someone else entered the room.

"Get off of my betrothed, Black!"

"My dear brother, I was merely checking for a pulse," Black laughed but pulled back. "She is alive and well."

"Out." Edwyn said. Black snorted but, to Arya's surprise, obeyed. She was left alone with her _betrothed_. The word tasted like venom. She glared at him, hissed at every step he took toward her. And as his face drew nearer to hers, she spat straight into it. Edwyn jerked away and wiped the spit off with the sleeve of his tunic.

"You'll regret that, you little cunt," he drawled. Arya was prepared for some sort of beating, but when he leaned down again, she realized he was untying her.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Don't touch me!"

Edwyn ignored her and continued with the ropes. As soon as her arm was free, Arya swung her hand toward him, nails out. He was on guard, however, and caught her arm mid-air with a snigger. The grip around her wrist was so tight her fingers went numb. To her dismay, he managed to keep the grip while untying the other arm, and then yanked her out of the bed. As she got to her feet, she stumbled and wondered again how many days she had been out.

"We have a little surprise for you," he said and pulled her after him to the window. Arya desperately tried to break free from his claws, but he was too strong. She tried to take in the room, look for some sort of way out. The chamber overlooked the grounds, and was too high up for jumping. The walls were made of solid stone; she couldn't possibly break it down. The door, however, did not seem so thick. If Gendry had been here, he could easily have knocked it down with the strength of his body. The thought of him made her eyes sting and she pushed the memory of him away.

"Look," Edwyn demanded, and jerked her head around with his bony hands.

Arya scowled, but looked in the direction he was pointing. The sight that met her made her stomach drop. Her heart pounded in her chest and a hoarse scream escaped her lips. Finally, she managed to pull away from Edwyn. She pressed her hands against the windows and sobbed violently. "Mother," she yelled. But her mother could not hear her. She had been dead for days, Arya knew that. Yet the sight made her sick to her stomach. Above the castle gates hung her mother, her throat gaping at her. Next to her, Arya recognized Robb's lifeless body. His head was replaced by Grey Wind's. Those sick sons of whores. Arya fell to her knees, her body shaking, and her heart throbbing. Her throat was sore from screaming, and her vision blurred with tears. They had not only murdered her family, but also decapitated Robb and strung them both up for everyone to see. She hated them. She hated them with every fibre of her being. They would burn for what they had done, she would make sure of it.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, Arya jumped to her feet and threw herself at the nearest person, without realizing that more people had entered the room. What she had believed was Edwyn, was the woman from a few days before. The woman screamed as Arya's nails dug into her face. Someone took hold of her and pulled her away from the crying, and now bleeding, woman. Arya twisted and jerked to get out of the person's grip, but they were too strong. She felt someone's nose break under her elbow. Someone else got her foot in his or hers stomach.

"Calm down you little bitch," Edwyn yelled and wrapped his arm around her throat. Arya gasped for breath and kicked even harder. She would never give up! They would have to kill her before she'd give in. As if he had read her mind, Edwyn sighed. "So be it." Then the world turned black again.

She was on the floor when she regained consciousness. The wound in her side was bleeding again, and her neck was sore and swollen. Her head felt so heavy she wanted to knock it against the wall. It was dark outside, and Arya crawled toward the windowsill. Although the sight would make her sick, she had to know whether they were still there. She could not look for more than a second before her stomach retched. Her family. Her beloved family. The last of her pack. Her eyes stung and Arya hurried away from the glass and to the other side of the room. As far away as possible. It took her some time to calm down. She forced the image out of her mind and concentrated on revenge. She needed to get out of here and when she did, she would kill every last one of these shits.

It was dawn when she finally moved from the corner. She was determined to find a way out. She had to. Without looking toward the gates, Arya examined the window. It would not be too hard to break it. She would only need a solid object. The fall, however, would surely kill her. Unless she had something to break the fall with. She looked around the room, but there were nothing there. It was completely stripped of contents, except for the bed. Arya tried the door, but no luck. She thought she heard someone talk outside, and reckoned there were guards in front of her door. This chamber was her cell and she was their prisoner. There was nothing she could use as a weapon, nothing to protect herself with. They Freys wanted to keep her here, that was for sure, but why, she did not know. She spent half a day feeling the walls and knocking on panels when she suddenly heard someone outside the door. Swift as a dear she hurried to stand behind the door as it slowly opened. Someone entered, and Arya jumped out in front of him or her, fists ready to fight. It was Black. As she swung her arm toward him, he ducked and hoisted her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. Arya yelled and punched his back over and over again before she was dumped on the bed.

"Get away from me!" Arya warned him, and as he drew nearer, she could not help but be afraid. He was thrice her size and undeniably stronger. She had no chance against him. Not without a weapon.

"Oh, come on now, love. I told you we'd get to know each other. Let's."

Arya glared at him. "Don't you dare touch me!"

Her threat only seemed to make Black laugh. He put his large hand on her thigh while wearing a nasty grin. Arya kicked it away and crawled to the edge of the bed, but he took hold of her foot and pulled her back.

"Get off me!" she screamed and tried to reach the bedframe, but it was too far away and Black was pulling her too fast.

"Quiet, bitch," he barked and slapped her across the face, almost sending her flying over the edge of the bed, but he still had his grip around her ankle and easily held her back. Arya gasped in agony and felt her cheek burn for many moments after.

"Well, that was effective," he smirked and hit her again, this time with a closed fist. Arya crashed loudly to the floor and felt something snap. Maybe it was a rib. She hurriedly got to her feet, ignoring the pain shooting form her new wounds. As Black reached for her, Arya danced her way past him and kicked him hard in the leg before making a run for it toward the doors. Behind it were two large men, who both turned and looked at her, swords already drawn. Arya looked back at Black, who was staggering to his feet while swearing loudly. "Grab her, dammit!" he yelled. The guards lunged forward, but Arya managed to duck away from them both and sprinted down the corridor and to the stairs. The guards and Black was after her now, shouting loudly for someone to stop her. Arya had to be smart. If she kept running straight ahead, she would sooner or later run into more of Frey's men. If she could find a chamber with a window toward the river, she could jump and follow the river downstream.

She made a left turn and tried every chamber on the side she believed were facing the Trident, but all the doors were locked. When she finally managed to open one, she ducked inside and examined the windows closely. It was not that far down, she would most likely survive the fall. However, she needed something to break the glass with. Looking around, she saw a candlestick on a table. Now, she needed something to dwell the noise. In a closet she found a tablecloth, but by now she could hear running in the hall and she knew she would have to act as quick as she could. With all her might, she thrust the candlestick against the window. The glass sang but nothing happened. She tried again, and realized the footsteps were right outside the chamber door. On the third attempt, the glass broke and Arya cleaned the windowsill with the tablecloth before climbing through. She was just about to jump when someone seized her arm and pulled her back inside. There was a loud thump as she landed on the cold floor, and the broken rib sent shooting pains rushing through her. Her arms and legs were covered with cuts from the broken glass in the sill, and she was bleeding violently.

"You broke the window you cunt!" a man yelled. Arya was still on the floor, the pain from her rib and her stab wound almost paralyzed her and she could hardly move. Through blurred eyes she could see Edwyn hissing angrily at her. "You will pay for that!" he barked and kicked her in the stomach. "And so will your uncle."


	5. Chapter 5

She woke up in the same room from before. She did not know how much time had gone past. Days were completely lost to her here. At the floor by the bed stood a tray of food. They wanted her alive, and she could not for the life of her figure out why. What value was she to them? Arya considered whether she should eat the food or not. Perhaps it was poisonous? But if they wanted her dead, why not terminate her in the wedding like the rest of her pack? Why put her through all of this? No, she had to keep her strength if she wanted to get well enough to escape again. Poisoned or not, she would have to eat it. As she reached for the tray, Arya realized one of her hands was chained to the bedframe. They were really taking every precaution with her. While eating, Arya went over the escape attempt in her head. If she had only been a little quicker, she would have made it. It had been completely impulsive, but it could have worked. And now the window was broken. Surely, they had not fixed it yet, but the room was likely sealed off and locked. She would probably have to find another way out. She tasted the soup and was surprised to find it delicious. Or perhaps it was just the hunger talking. She scraped the plate clean and licked it after, her stomach still growling. How long had it been since she had last eaten?

Suddenly, she remembered what Edwyn had said right before she passed out: Edmure! Was he still alive? If so, were they torturing him? What did they want with him? With any of them? The next time someone came to her chambers, she would be awake and she would demand answers. But the day went and another one came, and no one came and no one left. She spent the days plotting her revenge. She wanted them to suffer; she wanted to hear them apologize. The wives and children would watch as she offed their husbands and brothers, one by one. She would string them up above the gates as a message to anyone who dared threaten the Starks again.

She was in mid-thought when someone finally entered. Arya recognized the lady she had clawed, who was now covered in marks. The woman seemed scared of her as she put the tray on her bed. Arya glared at her.

"I have to change your bandages," the woman said quietly. Arya narrowed her eyes. Had they been changing her bandages without her knowing? Making sure her wounds healed properly? She lifted her shift and saw that her stab wound had bled again.

"I won't hurt you," the woman said in a trembling voice. "But you must promise not to hurt me too."

Arya looked at her. The woman was older than her mother, with grey hair and tired eyes. Was she a Frey or simply a servant? Arya did not know. What she did know, was that her wound could get infected if she wore the same dirty bandages for too long, so she put her hands behind her head and gestured for the woman to do what she came for.

"This might sting a little," the woman said as she pulled the bandages from her wound. Although it had been days, perhaps weeks since the wedding, Arya had not seen how badly she was hurt. Until now. Although not fatal, the wound was deep and nasty.

Arya looked at the woman as she worked. Perhaps she knew something about Edmure.

"My uncle-"

The woman froze by the sound of her voice, and barely dared look Arya in the eyes. "Is he alive?"

Nodding, the woman returned to cleansing the wound.

"Is he hurt?"

The woman nodded again.

"Where are they keeping him?" she knew she was pushing her luck, and was not surprised when the woman did not reply. "I think they broke my rib," she said instead. It felt good to use her voice for something else than yelling. If she wanted a second chance at escaping, she might need a friend.

"I will take a look at it," the woman said.

"Thank you," Arya replied and decided that this woman was harmless. She was merely someone who delivered food and changed bandages. Surely she had nothing to do with the wedding.

"Have they taken down the bodies yet?" Arya asked. She had not dared to look again.

"Yes."

Arya nodded. _Good_ , she though, then they are probably buried somewhere.

"They finished your gown today," the woman said.

"What?" Arya barked. "What gown?"

The woman started at her, blinking. "For your wedding. Did they not tell you?"

Arya felt her stomach drop. They were still going through with the betrothal! She was not being kept here as some bargaining chip; they intended to make her one of them! They wanted to keep her a hostage for the rest of her life.

"I will bring it by later."

"Don't bother," Arya spat. "I am not getting married."

"Lord Walder says otherwise."

"I would rather die than marry that son of a whore!"

"They might take your word on that," the woman sighed. Arya could not fathom what this woman's role was in this plot. She seemed genuinely sorry for her, yet she was acting on the Frey's orders.

"When?" Arya asked.

"A week from today."

"They want the north, don't they?" That is why they are doing this. With Robb dead, Jon at the wall and Bran and Rickon gone, all that stands between her and Winterfell was Sansa – but the Lannisters would take care of her for sure. Or at least that was what Walder Frey was counting on. That piece of shit.

"You should never have come here," the woman whispered. "They have been plotting this since your brother's betrayal. The Lannisters have promised Lord Frey Winterfell for his assistance."

Arya felt her eyes sting and she leaned back in the bed. She had been right again, but no one had listened. If only she was a man then she would have had everyone's attention immidiately.

"What of the rest of Robb's host? The ones waiting in the Riverlands."

The woman shook her head. "No survivors."

As the woman started feeling for a broken rib, Arya turned her head away and let a single tear escape her eye. For Gendry.

After making sure there were no lose objects in the room, the woman unlocked Arya's chain and let her walk freely around.

"I will return later with your gown. And perhaps a bath would be in order."

Arya did not reply. She was seated in the window sill and staring out at the grounds. More than once did she consider breaking the glass with her bare hand and jump out, risking her life for a chance of escape. She was half asleep when she suddenly caught sight of something moving between the trees in the distance. _Was that what she thought it was?_ She scrambled to her knees and pressed her nose against the glass while desperately trying to see it again. But after staring for what felt like forever, she realized it had simply been her eyes playing tricks on her. Her heart dropped in her chest and she felt utterly helpless.

Just as she sat back down, the door barged open and Edwyn marched in.

"Hello love," he greeted. "Who let you out of bed? Never mind, as long as you don't do anything stupid." Arya noticed there were guards waiting outside. Four of them now. There were no point in trying; this was not the time.

"I am here to let you in on a little secret," he said and closed the door behind him. "Come, sit." He sat down on the bed and patted on the sheet next to him. Arya remained in the windowsill.

"Very well," he crossed his arms and looked at her. "We don't want to keep you a prisoner forever. In a week, you will be my wife, and I will not have my wife locked up in a room. I want you to come to supper, to get to know my family, but as long as you are so determined to escape, that is simply impossible.

Arya glared at him. _Of course she wanted to escape, she did not belong here!_

"We cannot continue to have guards at every door, and we realize nothing we threaten you with is going to keep you still. You simply care too little about your own well-being. That is why we have found it more efficient to punish your uncle for whatever damage you do." He paused and looked at her as his words sunk in. Arya shook her head in disbelief and anger.

"You son of a whore!" she muttered.

"So you understand. Good. We would have told you earlier, but we have been busy breaking your uncle's fingers for the men you've injured."

Her heart stopped in her chest. Edmure were being punished for her actions. He was being tortured to keep her in place. The man who only wanted to mend her brother's mistakes was being kept alive as a whipping boy.

"Some day you will burn in the seven hells for this," she replied.

"Perhaps, but right now, your uncle is the one in hell. Remember that window you broke? Cost him twenty lashes. The scratches on Lusia's face – a fingernail." Edwyn made to leave. "Oh, that is right, I have a message from your uncle."

Arya looked at him expectantly, when he suddenly slapped her so hard she were thrown into the wall. "That was for the nose he broke earlier today." Arya clutched the wall as she tried to pull herself to her feet.

"And this-" he grabbed her shoulders and threw her across the bed and onto the floor where she landed with a loud thud. "-is for Gendry."

Arya was horrified. What had he meant? Had Gendry been here? Was he being held captive too? How did he even know about him? The questions were running through her mind, driving her mad. She had to know what he had meant. She could not escape without knowing if Gendry was at the twins or not. What if she left him here to be tortured and killed? She could not let that happen. She had to know for sure that he was not being held captive.

When the woman named Lusia returned later that night, she had brought the wedding gown as promised. A couple of men were carrying a tub with steaming water between them. A woman entered with a looking glass.

"Thank you," Lusia said. "Now leave."

Arya had yet again observed how many guards were outside the door. Still four. It seemed they were afraid of her. The thought might make her smile some day. Scared of a little girl.

"Is it your wedding that is cheering you up so?" Lusia asked. Arya snorted.

"More the thought of revenge," she said honestly. Why lie?

"Get undressed and get in the tub, but careful with the wound. Keep it above water.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Is this really necessary? The worse I smell the further away people will keep."

Lusia crossed her arms. "You have two choices. Get in by free will with only me in the room, or be forced in by the guards outside this door. Your call." The woman did not seem so scared of her anymore.

Arya groaned and pulled off her smallclothes. She had a revenge to plan; she did not have time for dresses and baths.

"I have to ask you something," Arya said as she sat down in the water. She felt her cuts and bruises sting and had to bite down on her lip not to cry out.

"Have you eaten?" Lusia asked.

"Yes."

"Good."

"How is my uncle? Is he still alive? Is he very hurt?"

Lusia started scrubbing her back with a cloth. "Yes and yes."

"How bad is it?"

"Worse than you."

Arya sighed and examined her dirty fingernails while biting her lip. She knew she would have to get him out of her too, somehow. It would make the whole plan much harder, but she had to do it, and she only had a week left.

"What about the name Gendry? Does that sound familiar? Is there a man here with that name?" Arya turned and looked the woman dead in the eyes. Lusia avoided her gaze and hesitated.

"Answer me!"

Sighing, Lusia shook her head. "No, girl, there is no one here by that name."

"Are you lying? I swear to the gods, if you are lying, you will regret it!"

"I am not lying!"

"Then how does Edwyn know his name? What did he do to him?" Arya knew she could not take the woman's word for true, no matter how gentle she had been to her. Yet, she needed to hear from someone that he was okay, even if it was only a lie. "Tell me!"

Lusia continued scrubbing her back. "You were calling for him in your sleep. Lord Edwyn overheard it."

Arya sighed in relief and fell back in the tub, finally allowing herself to relax, if only for a little while.

"A piece of advice: You should forget about that boy. Your life is here now, he will only make it harder to accept it."

Arya closed her eyes and pretended not to listen. Lusia might not be as bad as the rest, but she was still working for Walder Frey, and was probably obligated to tell about every conversation they had together. She would probably tell him about her worry for Gendry, even if he was only a name to them.

Yet her mind constantly wandered to their last night together, and her heart was filled with longing for him and for freedom. She wondered where he was now. Was he dead? Had he gotten away before the Freys attacked?

As Lusia put her in the wedding gown, Arya imagined for a second it was by Gendry she would be cloaked in a week. The thought made her tear up.

"You don't like it?" Lusia asked. The dress was sown to her exact measurements, and Arya would rather not know how they got them without her knowing. It was a woolen gown in Frey colors, with a tight bodice and long sleeves. Arya glared at it. Her mother would have been radiant to see her in a wedding dress. To see her exchange vows and kiss her husband. It would have made her so happy, yet Arya had always been repulsed by the idea. Now that her mother was gone, she wished she had been more open to it. She wished she had been kinder to her mother, treated her with more respect and trusted that whatever she wanted would be the best for Arya. Now she would never get to see the look on her mother's face as she was being cloaked.

"I hate it."

"It is a beautiful gown."

Arya shook her head. "I hate it! Take it off!" she grabbed the bodice and tried to tear it off, but Lucia stopped her and hurried to unbutton the back. "Take it off, take it off!"

As soon as the dress was off, Arya sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. This was not how it was supposed to have gone. Robb should be halfway to the capitol by now, halfway to saving Sansa. Then he would return for her and they would all have traveled home to Winterfell together. She was not supposed to marry Edwyn, she was not supposed to try on gowns and have her hair braided by some strange maid. But her family was either lost or dead. The Freys had taken away what little pack she had left. They had murdered her family in cold blood and now wanted to continue ruining her life. She hated them; she hated herself for willingly following Edwyn out of the Great Hall that night. She should have been with her family; she should have suffered the same end they did. At least then they would have been together.

"I will leave you alone," Lusia said and disappeared out of the room. Arya let her tears fall freely, finally mourning the loss of her pack.


	6. Chapter 6

_Gendry_

He watched from afar as the party left for the wedding, and could barely catch a glimpse of Arya's face as she leaned out of the carriage window. Was she looking for him? The expression on her face made his stomach feel like ice. He wished he were going with her. They had not been separated since they left the capitol together, and although she was not yet out of sight, he felt somewhat lost without her. A sudden urge to stop her hit him, and he started fighting his way through the crowd and toward the carriage, but there were too many men seeing them off, and the party was already too far ahead.

"Arya," he shouted, hoping she'd hear his voice. "Arya!"

Men nearby laughed at him, and some patted him on the shoulder as they passed him. Gendry kept running, but knew he would never catch up on foot.

"Let her go, lad," an old guard named Dallen told him. "She is a lady – this is what they do. They marry high lords and live in castles, not in cramped forges."

Gendry scowled at him. "Come on, let's get something to eat." Dallen said and ruffled his hair as if he was ten years old. Reluctant, Gendry followed him, but took one last glance back for the party, but they were long gone.

After a day of restlessness, Gendry finally decided to go after her. He could not eat or sleep or work without knowing she was safe. Perhaps it was all the years of looking after her that made it seem impossible not to. He had to go to the Twins, just to see that she was OK. In the dark of the night, Genry packed his few belongings and saddled a horse. If he rode fast and hard, he could be there in time for the wedding. The guards that were supposed to look after the horses, were all passed out drunk by a fire. Gendry rolled his eyes and guided the mare to the edge of the camp. He was not a very good rider, but after traveling with the brotherhood, he had picked up a skill or two.

"And where are you going?" a voice asked. Gendry jerked around and saw Dallen smirking at him. "Running after a certain princess, are we?"

"That is none of your concern," Gendry snapped at him and climbed on top of the horse.

Dallen sighed. "I can't let you ride into the woods by yourself. There are wolves running around there, haven't you heard?"

"I don't care." Gendry said. "Goodbye, Dallen." He turned his mare and galloped into the woods. It was almost too dark to see, but the horse found her way. In the distance, he heard wolves howling. The sound sent shivers down his spine, but he forced himself to not be afraid. Arya had talked about her pet wolf, and how all the Stark children had had one each. A pet to watch over them and keep them safe. He doubted the pack in the forest were as friendly. The deeper into the woods he got, the louder the howling grew, and Gendry was worried they might attack him and his horse.

"We should make a fire when we stop to sleep," a voice told him. Completely taken aback, Gendry let out a yell and turned to see who was talking to him. Dallen was approaching him by horse.

"What in the seven hells are you doing here?" Gendry asked grimly. "If you think you can convince me to turn around, you rode all this way for nothing."

Dallen sniggered. "I've sort of figured that out by now. But I am not letting you travel through the forest alone. You are not that good of a rider, you might fall of your horse and get eaten by wildlings."

"I've been through worse, I can handle myself."

Dallen pointed at the skinny sword in Gendry's sheath and laughed even harder. "Yes, I can see that. You could always poke them to death."

Frowning, Gendry pushed his mare to gallop a little quicker in the hopes of outrunning the old man following him. They rode in silence for a long while. Sometimes, Gendry was not sure whether or not Dallen still was behind him, but everytime he turned to look, he was still there, flashing him a knowing smirk.

"How much longer are you planning on riding tonight?" Dallen suddenly asked.

"Till I'm there," Gendry replied without looking at him.

"That's a stupid plan."

"And why is that?"

Dallen rode up beside him. "Your horse is getting tired, thickhead. You're a big lad, she's an old horse."

Gendry looked at the mare and sighed. Unfortunately, Dallen was right.

"We should stop here and make a fire. Wolves hate fire."

Reluctantly, Gendry obeyed and tied up the horse next to Dallen's. He went to find some water for the horses, and by the time he got back, Dallen was huddled over a sputtering fire.

"Come sit, lad. Tell me about your undying love for the little princess."

Gendry groaned loudly, but dumped down next to his new comrade.

"No, really, I am genuinely curious as to what is so intoxicating about this girl that you are willing to wander into the wolves' den by yourself only to what- keep her from pretending to marry Edwyn Frey?"

"You talk too much," Gendry complained, and rolled onto his back and stared up at the starry sky.

"And you if you talked a little more, you might not be in this situation right now," Dallen pointed out and winked.

"Goodnight, Dallen," Gendry said in a stern voice.

However, Dallen continued rambling. "Mind you, I understand your concern. With you being a simple blacksmith, and she the princess of the north… It would make a very good song, though."

"I said goodnight."

"Perhaps that is what you should do. Write her a song. How is your voice?"

Gendry had had enough. "Dammit, Dallen, shut up!"

Dallen shook his head. "You don't have a plan. Why am I not surprised? I am looking forward to watching you make a fool of yourself in front of our king."

Gendry threw a rock at the old man in reply. Finally, he stopped talking. However, when Gendry was drifting off to sleep, he could not help but agree with Dallen. What did he have to offer? Sure, Arya had no desire to marry a high lord and live in a castle and have his babies, but would she settle for a simple blacksmith? They had known each other for several years. She had been a child when they met, perhaps she would not see him as anything but a protective brother figure. Perhaps the kiss from the night before had simply been an act of desperation from her part. She had been worried about him and scared about the wedding. There had been no declaration of love. Was he a fool for following her? In the middle of a war none the less. If he turned around now, only Dallen would know of his moment of madness.

When sleep finally overpowered him, he had decided to return to camp in the morrow and march into war with Robb as promised. Arya could handle herself; she did not need him to protect her anymore.

The next day he saddled his mare and headed in the same direction he came from. Dallen hurried after him, taken aback.

"Wrong way, Florian," he pointed out.

"I changed my mind," Gendry answered.

Dallen sniggered. "I believe you mean you got cold feet."

"Call it what you will, I'm going back to camp. We have a war to win." Gendry ignored the teasing look his companion was sending him.

 _"_ _And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree._

 _She spun away and said to him,_

 _No featherbed for me._

 _I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,_

 _And bind my hear with grass._

 _But you can be my forest love,_

 _And me your forest lass."_

Dallen's singing sent shivers down his spine. Gendry glared angrily at the old man. The song reminded him of the brotherhood, and of Arya. Right now he did not want to think of either.

"Sure you want to go into war wondering what might have been?"

Gendry sighed. "Just shut up, Dallen."

"It would be awful dying with regrets, lad. Especially when you're as young as you are. Me, I have already lived a whole life. I can die in peace. But you?" He laughed. "I bet you haven't even tasted a woman."

Gendry could net help but blush slightly.

"Too honourable to find yourself a whore, eh? Curious, how bastards are so afraid of fathering other bastards. Well, you are missing out! Do you really want to die a boy?"

"Why are you so certain we'll die in this war?" Gendry asked.

Dallen laughed. "Look at us, lad! You are as green as they come. I am old. What are our chances against Lannister soldiers?" he shook his head and started singing again.

" _And you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass_."

"STOP SINGING THAT DAMN SONG!" Gendry yelled, his blood boiling with anger. He did not need some old, bitter man to tell him he was going to die in war. The thought haunted him in his sleep every night. And he especially did not need to hear this song the whole road back to camp.

"Is it of sentimental value? Remind you of a certain lass, perhaps?"

Gendry did not reply.

"I see why they are calling you the bull," Dallen snorted with an amused smile. "However, I still believe we should continue toward the Twins."

"I don't care. You go if you want to, I'm going back."

Dallen seemed to have given up and they finally rode in silence. They had ridden for half a day when they suddenly heard hooves approaching from afar. Dallen froze and turned to see, before urging Gendry to hurry into the woods and hide.

"Who is it?" Gendry asked in a hushed voice. Dallen rode after him, gesturing for him to go further.

"Out of sight!" the old man ordered him. Gendry jumped off the horse and ducked behind a shrubbery. Dallen followed quickly.

"Freys," he whispered when they were sure the approaching party could not see them.

"Should we not warn the others?" Gendry asked.

"We would never make it back in time. We might be jumping to conclusions; they might be delivering a message."

Gendry frowned. "Must be some message."

They watched as several thousand men passed them. These could not all be Freys, Gendry thought, but that was the only banner he saw. When they were out of sight, Gendry thought he heard shouting in the distance, and wondered if they had reached the camp already.

"Sounds like they are attacking!" Dallen remarked.

Gendry jerked to his feet. "And we are here hiding like cravens! We should be there fighting with them!" he was about to get on the horse when Dallen pulled him back.

"Listen good, lad. If the Frey's are attacking King Robb's men, then they are certainly attacking King Robb."

Gendry looked at him, slightly confused.

"You stupid bull, your lady love and her family practically walked into an ambush out of free will! They might be dead already for all we know!"

Gendry shook his head in disbelief. He was torn between racing to the camp and help his fellow men, and turning back the way he came to make sure Arya was alive and well.

Dallen hit him over the head with his palm. "What are you waiting for? Go!"

He did not think twice before mounting his mare and galloping toward the Twins.


End file.
